Smother
by yesterdaysMagician
Summary: You've been waiting in the dark for so long. Extinguish any light, silence every word, steal every breath that comes your way. Gamzee/Tavros. Rated M because I'm emotional over my ships.
1. Chapter 1

He couldn't remember. Gamzee couldn't remember why his thumbs were pressed so forcefully against Tavros' throat. He couldn't contemplate his reasoning for rubbing soft, soothing circles with index fingers and whispering, comforting as lungs struggled to inflate against the weight pinning them down. Shh, brother, take a deep breath.

_(oh wait you can't-)_

Gamzee had the sudden impulse to shake the neck enclosed in his fists. Despite the talons digging into his wrists and attempting to pry his dead-set mitts off, he didn't feel bad. No. He felt pretty good, actually. Nothing was wrong. He leaned down so far his lips brushed against the straining veins in Tavros' neck, screaming for connection, suffocating under pressure. Trying, trying so hard to breathe. While Gamzee just wanted to hold him and tell him that he was sorry, he only wanted to-

_(you need to bite him bite him tear him open)_

help him. But he couldn't do that, could he? No one could help because Tavros was just-

_(a sad sad little piece of shit who can't even kick you away where are your legs shitblood-)_

so low and pitiful.

"Gggggham-" he couldn't talk. He used the remainder of air to try and say Gamzee's name. To snap him out of it because-_it hurts oh god it hurts my lungs are on fire gamzee stop it stop it please what are you doing- _calling his name usually worked. But now everything was fuzzy. Gamzee's grip was letting up a bit but everything was comforting and warm and such a nice shade of grey. Such a nice shade. Tavros tightened his grip around Gamzee's bleeding wrists, panting, tears stinging the backs of his eyes.

"Stop. Gamzee. Stop. Please get off of me." he rasped, his hands sliding higher up to scrape at Gamzee's fingers.

He wasn't looking at Tavros. Wasn't listening either. His orange eyes were looking through him and his ears were swiveled back, teeth bared in a snarl. His hot breath stank and assaulted Tavros' nostrils which flared as he coughed and spluttered.

_(why does my love look at me this way? the stupid fuck-)_

He loved him though. Gamzee loved him. That's why he had come over. He needed to tell him that, show him that.

_(i love you and she can't have you no one can have you so you'll just have to be first)_

_(you'll just have to wait for me when you get to where you're going)_

Gamzee seized him once more, tightening, hands wrapping around sensitive flesh, slamming the other's head down with a forceful crack. Tavros tried to gasp. But Gamzee silenced him by rubbing those soothing circles as he held fast- _tighter tighter faster hurry -_ and Tavros tried his hardest to get Gamzee off of him. He was strong. He could have fought Gamzee. Could have beaten Gamzee any night except for this night. Because he was tired. Hadn't slept in a few days. His muscles were worn and his stomach was empty and he had no aggressiveness or urge to inflict suffering in his genetic pool. He was simple. So simple.

_(yet so motherfucking complicated)_

There was the black again, dancing with the grey off in the distance. Flying, flying away from him - _inviting me take me with you please - _all his nightmares and wildest fantasies in one and for a minute he was happy. Then he was sad. So sad because he didn't understand. He didn't understand why Gamzee was doing this. Maybe his body wasn't shutting down. Maybe he was just going to sleep and when he woke up he and Gamzee would still be friends. There would still be piles and ridiculous rap battles and Gamzee's meaningless rambling about life and purpose.

_(gamzee no i don't want to please stop don't do this i thought you liked me. i thought i was your friend. gamzee. please. stop.)_

Then his fingers went slack around the scabbed, flaky wrists and punctured skin, leaving Gamzee staring blankly and frowning faintly at the lifeless body. Tavros.

_(good job you waste of space you're starting to do things right)_

No. Hurting what you loved was not right. It was bad. It was sinful _-deranged crackhead freak who works for the dark carnival-_, ungrateful, his idols said so. Gamzee felt his stomach turn in a fit of shock, lurching as bile crept up his esophagus.

_(yes now no one can get to him, except for you. once. you get him once. now that's the end of that. you got him.)_

No. That wasn't what he had wanted.

_(you put him out of his misery if you hadn't culled him _they _would have and we both know how much you hate _them _don't we?)_

_..._Yes. Gamzee hated it. Hated himself now. Would continue to hate himself for a while anyway. But not as much as he hated them. Hated the voice in his head coaching him. It would all get better soon. It had to, it had to, it had to.

It should.

_(it will)_

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>yet another stream of consciousness from me. please review it even if you hate it. next i'm probably going to write some fluffy equius/nepeta or some eridan angst. maybe some smut. who knows? anyway thanks you guys and have a good night!


	2. Chapter 2

**this is a sequel i wrote up one night. it's pretty bad and you probably shouldn't read it - i really tried to improve but i'm not doing so well, eheheheh. i don't know! just review it, even if you hate it.**

**also it's the weird format again and i don't like it. **

* * *

><p>A loud voice is stretching down into the deep hole he's in, reaching for him, staring down him from the motherfucking hole in the motherfucking ceiling. Even though he is certain there is no longer a motherfucking hole now, the voice keeps persisting and meddling. <em>(are you okay, gamzee? are you all right? wake up wake up oh god oh god OH GOD OH GOD) <em>The more he ignored it the louder and more defined it got. The more he thrashed in order to shake it off the longer it clung to his thick grey hide like wet cloth.

_(WAKE UP WAKE UP, OPEN YOUR STUPID STAINED SIGHT HOLES YOU INSUFFERABLE FAILU-)_

The moment his orange eyes open is the exact moment his ears are greeted by the thick silence the walls are offering to him. The moment he props himself up with his hands is the moment he realizes that he is completely and utterly alone - never before has he felt so relieved. Ears, previously pressed flat to the side of his skull, go back to their original position. The coiling mass of fear in his stomach tightens as his vision fluctuates.

Everything in his hive is crawling; the posters on the wall, the colorful empty bottles, even the green slime that once soothed his aching think-pan is sprouting legs and inching towards him and _hissing. _Gamzee does the logical thing and hisses back, baring pointed fangs at the slime which glows faintly. It's late in the night, and it is only then that the indigo blood realizes that he has almost slept the night away. Again.

Awareness is something he isn't used to experiencing. For once in his life he is able to separate dream from reality and conclude that Tavros isn't dead - at least, not yet, or by his own hands.

He begins to stir from his sitting position, rising woozily to his feet and taking a step forward.

(_honk) _His calloused foot squeezes the air from the rubber covering, air rushing and bringing back that godawful sound. That godawful sound from his _-barrels in your mouth, shreds your tongue, everybody jumps to the juggalo sound-_ nightmares and recurring daytime horrors. Just a sharp movement away-

_(HONK)_

And he jumps back, overcome by the reaching talons nearly the size of his torso, even though a little voice is screaming that it's not real, he's just hallucinating and being stupid. But the hands, they are connected to an even larger body. A body that frightens him and it reeks of disloyalty and the salty smell of sea water, or blood.

_(come here)_

"Heh, go away." He pins on a nervous chuckle to the front of his denial. Mirth is the best defense when you are scared and alone and have nowhere to run.

Mirth is the best defense.

_(AT LEAST YOU'VE MANAGED TO REMEMBER THAT, YOU DISGUSTING BULGELICKER. YOU DISGUSTING PILE OF FUCKING FILTH, SCUM OF THE SUBJUGGULATORS-)_

Gamzee's eyes widen and his pupils dilate as he scans each darkened corner of his recuperacoon before stepping towards one of them. He pushes himself far down, curling in on himself as his back and right thigh touch the walls. He shivers and touches his forehead to his knees because what else is there to do besides wait this out? What else is there to do besides wait this out? What else is there to do besides _wait this out?_

And the same voice is repeating the same thing over and over and over and over and ove-

_(you don't pity the shitblood do you?)_

"Leave me alone." he whispers, expecting at any moment to be grabbed and throttled for whatever he's done that's wrong.

For the longest time he sits in that corner.

Waiting.

Watching.

And thinking.

God, that troll thought up a motherfucking storm as the voices taunted him and made him tear out tufts of his own hair in frustration. As they made him claw at his own throat and accidentally rip holes in his own shirt because his think-pan started to hurt _so _motherfucking bad.

For a long time he just sat there.

_(how long do you plan to wait)_

He didn't know.

_(i know what you're thinking. you're thinking this is another nightmare. you're thinking you'll wake up again and you'll be sleeping in poison.)_

Yes but that poison relieved all his stress, all his worries. It made him forget about everything. And everything was horrible. Everything was a motherfucking roller coaster of violence and a healthy dollop of hate and ass-whoopin'.

When he does fall asleep, it's very quickly, and much too scary for him to even comprehend.

The piercing pain in his chest, and then the sudden falling motion does not jar him awake, only sickens him so that - in his dream - he vomits; blood and hard metal and bits of flesh. He chokes, but whatever is piercing through him has pinned him. He isn't sure what he's feeling, or seeing.

His primitive instincts have only made him more alert to the fact that it is going to happen if he isn't careful. It won't happen to him, but to his hearts, every single one of them. He needs to be careful.

That he needs to be careful.

_(don't trip don't push don't fall)_

Gamzee sits in that corner until he wakes up again. Strange objects and strange trolls and strange liquid running through his fingers - a different kind of buzz reverberating off of his skull, a kind he doesn't care for.

_(don't breathe don't speak don't move)_

_(don't move)_

Gamzee Makara falls asleep one more time as his lungs heave and his sunken chest gains a breaking amount of pressure.

_(don't move.)_


End file.
